TC-Class: Parasitic Plagiarism and You

     The art of plagiarism is one many students find themselves running into, sucking the life out of their work and creating chaos. It is a tricky subject, plagiarism is, in that the idea of stealing someone's exact words, phrases, and ideas brings up quarrelsome thoughts to some writers: they are just words and expressions. This is where most incoming students get nailed, and they land on the receiving end of a failing grade, perhaps even expulsion.

      But to plagiarize something is actually quite tricky; to take someone's own words and try to pull them off takes some time to perfect, and, realistically, it is a wasted effort in the fact that he or she gets nothing out of it. No, in college, where ideas are to be expressed in an open, mature manner, it is much simpler, and fun, for the writer to create their own masterpiece of communication and spread it about the campus, possibly attached with a well deserved A.

      To refrain from plagiarism, it is best for the student to understand that everything a published writer brings to a work is by ownership his or her own: words, syntax (the way the words are pieced together), ideas (arguments, stories, logical connections, etc.); and if the work is of fiction, the student writer must remember to attach each bit of dialogue and plot structure into attribution, or giving credit back to the original author (“In the short story 'Apology Accepted,' John J. Lewis illustrates...”).

     MLA, or the Modern Language Association, is a swell group that provides structure and orderliness to the act of attributing a work; their handbooks direct student writers to introduce an author at the start, and follow up by mentioning him or her after each quotation or idea in parenthetical citations (along with a nifty page or paragraph number). When asked not to directly quote though, paraphrasing becomes a tricky obstacle.

     Paraphrasing can be difficult, but remember: it is telling the idea in your own words, still giving all credit back to the author. Located on their website, Purdue OWL states, "Paraphrasing is one way to use a text in your own writing without directly quoting source material. Anytime you are taking information from a source that is not your own, you need to specify where you got that information." Paraphrasing and quotations should be used as needed in order to respectfully attribute back to an author, but every original idea regarding a subject must come from the student. Look at it that the author still needs a reason to get payed for his or her work, and while you might not be payed, you are taking that away from him or her.

      As a student, the average college writer is stepping away from high school and onto bigger, better, less dramatic things, but that means giving credit where credit is due just as a professor would give a high passing grade for the work that student has completed on their own.

      Plagiarism is a parasitic pest; once a student begins to commit it, it will continue to grow in that student, and fester, until finally he or she is caught and removed like a tick, marked forever as a thief of logic. That is not to say that writing strong and logical, original ideas is difficult; rather, it is much easier in that the student writer is creating, bringing life into a piece that no one else has seen before. It is rewarding to see the polished work--the writer's own work--return without someone else stealing the vibes. Any college student, experienced or not, can argue the same.


Purdue OWL on Quoting, Paraphrasing, and Summarizing can be found here:
                                      http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/563/01/

---Plagiarism:
                                     http://owl.english.purdue.edu/owl/resource/589/01/

Just Once

When I first held you, and you cried to me

something fierce, I was too afraid to hold

you, carry you, even set you on me.

I could see how your claw strikes were quite bold.

But with you gone, now, I wish I had known

How we were both scared, and how I was wrong.

At the time with how dependent you were,

Don't jump on me, I would say, nerves shaken.

You didn't deserve the pain you went through.
Yes, that's life, and it can be really tough,
But the adventures you had then show through,
And the pain of your bite made me know enough.

But you're gone now, and I wish that just once

I could feel your claws on my hand—just once.

Dedicated to my cat, Tiger, kneading something somewhere, free of pain. 

Writing from the Prompt

     In college, one of the most important things when it comes to writing is being able to follow directions correctly by understanding what's asked. If a professor states they want a four page minimum and several sources prevalent throughout the piece, then it's best to give them what they ask for; however, essays and summaries are not the only forms of writing that can be prompted.
     I visited the classroom of John Brantingham after work to visit the Creative-Writing Club, a group of writers I haven't worked with before. He wasn't there, taking some time off to recover, but the club was hosted by the president and other coordinators. Walking in late, I slipped into the back, but I found myself added to the activities of introducing ones self and, of course, writing under a timed, prompt restrained setting. We were asked to write creatively, though: fiction and poetry was up for grabs, and I decided on doing the fiction. For the short-story, we had a few restraints written on the board:

•      The Protagonist's name was Amy.
•      Amy worked in a clown store.
•      She was deeply in love with a giraffe handler.
•      Amy had an evil clown stalker.
•      We must use the word "Buck-fumbling" within the literature.

     Once noted, we were asked to write what we could, where we would finish and present our works to the class if we chose to. Pasted below is what I came up with. Buck-fumbling, in the tense I used, is underlined within.

     "Can you tell me why he's following you?" David wiped the sweat off his brow, staring out the bungalow's front window.
     Amy held herself from an unseen breeze. "I'm not sure, but he's everywhere."
     "He can't be everywhere."
     "Yes, he can," she said.
     David turned. The golden giraffe pin, something only given to experienced handlers throughout the year--from what he said--glinted in the young woman's eyes, burning her. It illuminated her split ends into hanging embers of ash.
     "Listen, Amy, you're just tired. You've been working too much."
     She sighed. "And what are you saying?"
     "No one's chasing you out there, is what I mean; no one's hunting you."
     "You don't know. You don't know what I've been through," she said. "The freak watches me sleep. And that makeup."
     David turned to the window once more, palm on the glass with the other hand up.
     "His makeup looks like he buck-fumbled through it."
     "Does it frighten you?" he asked.
     Amy opened her lips, glancing at the handler. She wanted to tell him yes. She wanted to say how she wished David would hold her, letting her cry in his arms, taking away the weeks of hiding in the restroom and tidying a knife beneath her pillow. But, when he turned, her eyes clenched at the reflection of his dulled, misshapen clown nose.

     It isn't much, but it gave me a chance to just let a story come out, and allow the characters to breathe and become their own entities. Working with this novel, The Neptune, has pulled me from that very idea; I feel as though I need to plot so heavily, when I should let the work write itself instead.
     For Mt. Sac students, the club is on Thursdays, 2:30 to 4:00 P.M. and is hosted in 3411 of 26A. I'm personally looking forward to returning. Stop by if you want to give writing a chance!

A New Chapter

     With the last chapter written, I'm happy to say that my work-in-progress horror novel, The Neptune, has its first "book" completed. Yes, this is just the drafting stage, but it's a benchmark for me that I've never felt would ever come.

      One year ago, I had just came out of a dark, dark place in my life, and was working towards recovery in any way I could. School was a part of my life and I couldn't give that up, so I took extra classes to try and stay focused on something physical, rather than worry on something mental. I met an amazing professor who showed me I did have something to add to this world, and she allowed me to meet another professor, a great man who has become my mentor in creative writing.

      Now, that's not to say I'm completely recovered; I still have times where depression kicks in, or I get lonely and afraid. But those are only bumps in the road in comparison to what I've been through; those are only pebbles in comparison to what I have in store for me.

      I have a great job that keeps me on my feet, working hard, and while it can be stressful and draining, I love it so much and wouldn't trade it for anything. I have a plan to get my A.A. and transfer out of my school to CSUSB for their MFA and English program, and I--as of currently--want to become an editor; though, each and every day I find myself interested in becoming a professor at the community college level. And my writing craft keeps me going and knowing that I have a purpose, and I have a voice; I have a way to show the world I can add to it, rather than take, even if it bugs the heck out of me at occasional times.

      The Neptune is at just a slice of the full pie, and I'm planning to add another sixty-five thousand words to it before I get into the revision process. With luck, it'll progress into a great first novel, something I can be really proud of.

      Everything's been a roller-coaster the past two years, but I want to thank each and every one of you that have stood by me, guided me, assisted me, and been there for me when I need them. If this all works out, I dedicate The Neptune to you guys. Just, you know, please don't be turned off that it's a space infection horror story.

Recovering

     Currently, I'm sitting here on my laptop filling my stomach with glasses of orange-juice, listening to the soundtrack of Skyrim, Bethesda's hit video-game, swearing at my word processor for some miracle to plop on the page--me knowing it won't happen, but wishing--and waiting to see what the day will bring me. Colds are fun.
     I see myself to live a healthy lifestyle. Oatmeal, toast, and hashbrowns always win over French-toast for breakfast, and if I get offered a soda, I kindly decline and ask for water. Fitness is my stress-burner. Swimming is something I do not only to keep fit and toned, but to help with my confidence and anxiety. When I'm sick, all of this goes out the window.
     And mentally, I just feel like a brick; it's like my mind wants to work, and knows it's here for some reason, but the only thing it can do is perform simple tasks. Throw me an Algebra book during the flu and I'll look at you like a wet cat. A really wet cat. But not only do I suffer in arithmatic, but my writing seems to take a hit.
     This whole week, I've only touched about 1400 words, something I would do a day and a half. That's such a blow. The character's in my novel have once again become just that: characters.In time, though, things will get better.
     Rest and water have become my best friends, and while I'm disappointed I haven't worked out in over a week, it's for the best. The cold is going away, and once again work and writing will be something I can dive into rather than fear. If I'm lucky, my sickness won't pass to someone in the family and come back to me with open arms: "Hey, buddy, what's up?"
     How do you recover from sickness not only in your body, but in the recovery of any skills or hobbies that have been left behind?